Birdsong
by highland laurel
Summary: On the trail to Boonesborough with new settlers Mingo's influence opens vistas for a pioneer child and her family.
1. Chapter 1

Birdsong

_Those who wish to sing always find a song._

_Swedish Proverb_

Chapter 1

Daniel raised his large right hand and the caravan of settlers halted. The second day of travel had been uneventful and the evening stop ended a perfect early summer day. Beside him Mingo trotted on ahead for a dozen yards and melted into the surrounding forest to gather the firewood necessary for their campfire. All around him the air was filled with sound: men and women shouting to each other, children giggling as they helped unload camp equipment, oxen bellowing.

Two of the men took their long rifles and walked into the forest for fresh meat. Daniel walked along the line of settler wagons to connect with each family, ask about their day, and see to any signs of trouble. Finding nothing that commanded his attention Daniel began to construct his camp twenty feet ahead of the first family.

The Addisons were not a boisterous family. Pernell Addison was in his mid-forties, his wife Dottie the same. Their children ranged from seventeen year old Wren to five year old Starling. The six children all did their assigned chores without complaint, helping their parents create a camp quickly and efficiently. The oxen were tended, the meal started and the camp equipment set out. Daniel sat and watched them as he waited for Mingo's return.

Several minutes later the Cherokee was back with a full armload of wood. Quickly Daniel started a fire and began to brew coffee. Mingo disappeared into the forest once again. When he returned less than an hour later he had a half-dozen squirrels in his hand, victims of his accuracy with a blowgun.

Mingo deftly cleaned the squirrels and had a stew bubbling within the hour. The twilight settled over the caravan as the dozen families ate their meals. Mingo's eyes roamed to the Addison family gathered around their campfire. He was surprised to find the middle child's eyes riveted on him. He smiled and the girl dropped her eyes, obviously embarrassed. Her father glanced at her lowered head, then looked over his shoulder at the Cherokee illuminated by the campfire. The man bent low and spoke several words to the girl. Mingo saw her give her lowered head a quick shake.

A short time later as Dan and Mingo were eating their stew Mingo intercepted a glance from Mrs. Addison. Her face was drawn into a look of intense scrutiny. Mingo shifted uneasily and nudged Daniel, then leaned over and whispered.

"The Addison's seem to be rather suspicious of me, Daniel. I don't know if they have had negative experiences with Indians or if it's me in particular, but there is definitely something wrong."

Daniel glanced over his shoulder at the Addison family. The only persons visible were Mrs. Addison and two of the girls, busy washing the family dishes. All three had their eyes on the task at hand. Daniel frowned and looked back at Mingo's firelit face.

"They don't seem bothered to me Mingo. Maybe you just thought that's how they looked. The firelight can do funny things to a person's face you know."

Mingo smiled tolerantly. "Daniel, you have no reason to be aware of such undercurrents. I do. And I'm telling you something is amiss."

"Alright then, Mingo. But let's not borrow trouble. I'll listen a little closer to 'em, and watch 'em a little closer. They seem just like normal people to me though."

Mingo nodded and finished his cup of squirrel stew. Then he rinsed his cup, filled it with coffee, and sat sipping the hot brew. His dark eyes never left the family busy with their preparations for sleep. For some reason he seemed drawn to the middle child, a small and nondescript girl. Somehow he felt she had reached out to him. The moon rose above the trees and the entire camp settled down. Daniel and Thomas Barclay took the first watch as the other 61 people fell deeply asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Three days later Mingo nearly tripped over Phoebe Addison. His arms were full of firewood and he was bent over to pick up a last stick when she silently appeared beside him. He turned and bumped into her slight body, knocking her over into the damp forest litter.

"I'm sorry. My, you move quietly. Here, let me help you." Mingo reached down and pulled the girl to her feet. "Are you hurt? I'm a rather big man to bump into such a little girl!" Mingo's smile was broad and full of humor.

"I'm not so little. I'm thirteen, almost fourteen." The girl raised her chin and stared into Mingo's dark eyes. The clear eyes were the exact shade of a winter shadow. Mingo had never seen eyes such an unusual shade of blue. He tore his eyes from her face and took a step toward the camp.

"Are you gathering wood too? I don't see that you have any. Shall I help you? That way we can talk and become friends." Mingo remembered the look the child had given him the second night out of Salem. He welcomed the opportunity to discover the reason behind the child's intense look. She seemed to be weighing his words. Suddenly she nodded. Mingo returned the nod and bent to retrieve a thick stick of oak nearly hidden beneath the previous year's leaves.

"My name is Mingo. What's your name Miss Addison?"

"Phoebe."

"I enjoy your namesake. Every winter there's a little phoebe that sits at the edge of my town and sings the sun up. I heard you call your sister Lark. Do all you children have bird's names?"

"Yes. Mama wanted us all to be named after birds. She likes to sit and watch them in the evening when she's husking corn or snapping beans. There's me and Lark, Jay, Starling, Wren and Robin."

"How unusual! I don't believe I've ever met an entire family of birds before. How do you do?" Mingo's voice was light and teasing.

Phoebe giggled appreciatively. "I remember seeing you in Salem before we left. You were sitting on a box in front of the store reading a big thick book. I didn't know Indians could read."

Mingo looked into the unusual blue eyes once again. There was such a look of longing that the Cherokee frowned in puzzlement. The girl lowered her head and bent to pick up another stick of firewood. Together the two gathered an armload of wood for her family and Phoebe gratefully took the load back to her camp. Mingo dumped his armload at Daniel's feet as the tall frontiersman was spitting the two fat yearling rabbits he'd shot right before making camp.

"I see you met little Phoebe. She didn't seem scared o' you. Did you find out why she was starin' at you the other night?"

"No Daniel, I didn't. But she's a happy, bubbling girl with a quiet wit. I don't think she's afraid of me and I don't think her family is either. I guess I'm just unfamiliar to them."

Daniel nodded and positioned the rabbits to roast over the fire Mingo had built. Then the two ate their meal, drank their coffee, and rolled into their blankets. Pernell Addison and Jacob Wilson took the first watch and the camp settled into the nighttime routine.

Next morning Daniel and Mingo exchanged a look of apprehension as they head Pernell Addison's voice raised in anger. Though they couldn't make out who he was shouting at, they could hear a feminine voice responding to him. Suddenly the man strode around his wagon and advanced aggressively toward Mingo. The tall Cherokee stood as the settler raised his hand, his finger stabbing at Mingo's chest.

"You stay away from my girl! I don't want a no-account breed anywhere near any o' mine. You understand me Injun? Stay away." Pernell Addison's unshaven face was only inches from Mingo's throat, the threat plain.

Daniel rose and stepped beside the angry settler. "Now hold on there, Addison. Mingo's been nowhere near any o' your girls. And I don't like what you're implyin' there."

"Nowhere near? Him and Phoebe out in the woods together yesterd'y, all alone for an hour? I didn't know until just now when my boy Jay told me. My girl'd better not be ruined or I'll cut your personals offa your lanky body, Cherokee."

Mingo's face was rigid with anger. "Your foul insinuation is as unfounded as it is reprehensible. I helped the child gather firewood, as I'm sure she has told you. We spent less than a half hour in the process. That is all."

Daniel gripped the settler's arm and began to pull the frothing man back toward his own wagon. Mingo stood stiffly, his hands clenched into tight fists, his breathing labored. Silently he bent and gathered his rifle and accoutrements. Daniel came back into camp just as Mingo draped his powder horn and pack over his left shoulder. His whip was already anchored over his knife.

"Where're you goin' Mingo? There's no need for you to take off."

"Yes there is Daniel. I've never before been accused of such a foul deed, and I don't intend to stay in the company of someone who is capable of hurling such accusations."

"Wait a minute Mingo. You takin' off is a sure way to make him think he was right. Think about Phoebe. He's goin' to take his anger out on that little slip of a girl if'n you light out. Stay and make him see he's wrong."

"And just how do you think I can accomplish that Daniel?" Mingo's face was still set as the anger bubbled to the surface.

"By bein' who you are. Just be who you are, Mingo. I'm not sayin' he'll ever be your friend, but make him see that he's labeled you all wrong. For Phoebe's sake if not your own."

Seconds passed as Mingo weighed Daniel's words. Slowly he nodded and released a deep sigh. "Alright Daniel. But if he shoots me 'by accident' I'll expect a Cherokee scaffold, not a Christian grave. Tell my family I was sacrificed on the field of honor."

"There, now, that's just what I was talkin' about. Start recitin' Shakespeare or some poem. Let 'em see that you're an educated man. I'm afraid that they're really ignorant people without much learnin'. They think you're a wild savage even if you do speak the king's English better than they do."

"No Daniel, they think I'm subhuman because I'm not white. There's a difference."

"Then show 'em they're wrong. Win 'em over Mingo. And all the rest o' the group too."

Mingo chuckled and slipped Daniel a glance from the corner of his eyes. "You are a born diplomat, Daniel Boone. I salute you." Mingo gave his friend a salute and dropped his pack back to the ground. The two finished a quick breakfast and began the day's travel, together.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Mingo sat with the volume open on his knees, a coffee cup in his left hand. His deep voice rang with emotion as he read Polonius' admonishment to his son. "This above all—to thine own self be true; And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou cans't not then be false to any man."

He glanced up and saw Phoebe Addison frozen beside her wagon fifteen feet away. There was such a look of yearning on her face that Mingo's eyebrows rose in question. Daniel turned his head to follow Mingo's gaze and the child suddenly bolted back into the shadows.

"Phoebe?" Daniel's voice was hushed. Mingo nodded.

"She wants something, Daniel. Something that she deems precious and does not have. I have seen her listening before. She's thirsty for poetry, the rhyme and cadence."

"The whole family is nearly illiterate. Pernell was barely able to write his name on the roster in Salem. Dottie couldn't read the list of provisions I handed out. I don't imagine any o' the kids can read or write."

The two men sat quietly with their thoughts as the fire burned low. The other campfires flickered out as the families stretched out to sleep. Mingo grasped his rifle, nodded his goodnight to Daniel and melted into the forest. The night sounds were soothingly familiar as he sat and absorbed the natural symphony around him. Suddenly the crickets stopped to his left. Someone was approaching from the camp. His hand slipped his knife from its sheath at his belt. He tensed his muscles in anticipation. His mind spun back to the angry words spilling from Pernell Addison's lips. He turned his knife into the thrusting position.

"Mingo?" A girl's voice, barely audible. Phoebe Addison.

"Yes Phoebe?" He whispered in return.

"Can I come and talk to you?"

"Come on quietly. Follow the sound of my voice."

The girl stepped to Mingo's side, her head down and her whole body trembling. "What do you want to talk with me about Phoebe?" Mingo's quiet whisper barely reached her ears.

"I heard you reciting a poem to yourself before we left Salem, and I've been listening to you read every night. I can't read a word. But I want to!" Her voice gained volume as her longing poured from her heart. Mingo hushed her and she continued in a whisper. "Will you teach me?"

"How, Phoebe? Your father made it very clear that you were to stay far away from me. Didn't he?"

"Yes sir. But I want to know what you know! I want to read the words like you do. Can you understand? I know Pa doesn't want us girls to learn to read. But I want to read so bad!"

"Your father doesn't want you girls to read? Can the boys read?"

"Yes sir, a little. Not too much. Pa doesn't believe in much book learning. Pa won't let me an' my sisters learn at all. Wren doesn't care about reading. All she wants is to get married and have babies. Lark and Robin don't care either. But Ma does. And Pa won't let her learn neither."

Mingo sat digesting the information. Apparently the rough settler was threatened by the thought of women learning to read. The need to be dominant was primary in the man's mind. That dominance was preserved by keeping his wife and girls ignorant. Mingo's egalitarian mind rebelled at the thought.

"Phoebe, I will gladly teach you to read. But you must keep the secret very, very well. You know if your father finds us together he will punish you and attempt to kill me."

Phoebe's light eyes widened in alarm. She reached out thoughtlessly and gripped Mingo forearm. "No, Mingo! That isn't right. He wouldn't do that."

Mingo's smile was sad and full of knowledge. "Let's just not get caught, alright?"

The teen nodded. Mingo bent and brushed aside the molding leaf litter to expose the soft Kentucky ground. In the bright light of the three-quarter moon he began to teach the willing child the English alphabet, and by dawn Phoebe was reading simple words. Her radiant smile lit her tired face as she scurried silently back to her wagon before her father could find her missing. She flung a radiant smile back at Mingo and the tall man waved in affection. Shaking his head in aggravation, Mingo joined Daniel at the breakfast fire.

"You didn't feel like wakin' me last night? You're goin' to be one tired Cherokee today!"

Mingo smiled. "Then I guess I'll just have to run a few miles ahead, climb a tree and take a nap while I wait for you to catch me."

Daniel nodded, his bright green eyes full of questions. As he opened his mouth, Mingo waved his hand in dismissal. "Don't ask me Daniel and I won't have to lie to you."

Daniel's eyebrows shot up, but he closed his mouth and bent to the morning's coffee. After a light breakfast Mingo trotted off into the dense Kentucky forest and disappeared. Daniel and the settlers slowly followed. By early afternoon they caught up to Mingo's leafy cot.

That evening Daniel and Mingo were privy to a conversation between Dottie and Pernell Addison. The two parents were discussing Phoebe's unusual sleepiness. The child was stumbling with a fatigue that was evident even to the two spectators. Mingo carefully kept his face bland. Beside him Daniel turned with an observation.

"Sounds like Israel. Ever'time he sneaks out at night he's numb with sleep by that afternoon. Maybe Phoebe was out sleepwalkin' last night. Did you see her?"

Mingo shook his head but Daniel had seen the expression on the other man's face. He cocked his head and looked at his friend. "Daniel, don't ask me. I've told you." Mingo clamped his mouth shut and reached for the coffee pot. Daniel settled on the ground before him and likewise drank his coffee. But his mind reached for the possibilities.

The next day passed uneventfully. Phoebe was her usual self and the Addison family relaxed. That evening Mingo once again sat with the volume of Shakespeare open on his lap. His deep voice softly caressed the words of Portia's defense before the court:

"The quality of mercy is not strained

it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven

upon the place beneath. It is twice blest;

It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.

It is mightest in the mightiest."

Phoebe's hands automatically dried the metal plate in her hands. But her eyes were closed as she listened to the beautiful words. Daniel could see her lips moving as she repeated a phrase. Without effort his mind added all the clues and he turned to his friend beside him.

"You're teachin' Phoebe."

Mingo raised his head and looked long into Daniel's light eyes. He slowly nodded.

"The child longs for an education Daniel. She came to me with her longing. How could I deny her?"

"Her daddy'll make mincemeat o' you if he catches you."

Mingo's lips lifted in amusement. "Do you really have such little confidence in my abilities Daniel? If you do it's a wonder that you allow me to watch your back."

Daniel blushed and shifted in embarrassment. "Well, Mingo, a riled daddy can be a right onery critter."

"The man won't allow any of the girls to read, or his wife either. That to me is intolerable. Phoebe wants to read. She's very quick and learned the alphabet in a short time night before last. She's already reading short words. I can't ignore her, Daniel. I won't."

"I know. Just be careful."

Mingo nodded and smiled. "Why didn't I think of that?" The slender Cherokee grasped his rifle and his volume of Shakespeare. Then he walked to his observation post and began his turn as guard. Daniel sighed to himself and stretched out on the ground. The Addison's were already asleep. Just as he was drifting off he heard light footsteps and opened his eyes to see Phoebe Addison moving like a shadow through the trees. Daniel said a short but fervent prayer that his friend and his young pupil stay safe, then he closed his eyes and joined the Addison family in deep slumber.

brightly in their courses.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The night was very dark with a heavy cloud cover. Heat lightning flashed above the wagons. Daniel had prepared his caravan in the event of a thunderstorm and was now engaged in conducting a group sing around his campfire. The Addisons were there, as were the Percys and the Watsons. Mingo and he joined the nineteen others and sang as many rollicking songs as the company could remember. After an hour the families dispersed to their respective wagons and bedded down. Mingo reached for his volume of Shakespeare, thumbed through the pages and began to read aloud. A distant rumble added an ominous note to his choice. The words of Macbeth rang out in the darkness.

_"Is this a dagger which I see before me,_

_The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee;_

_I have thee not, and yet I see thee still._

_Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible_

_To feelings, to sight? Or art thou but_

_A dagger of the mind, a false creation_

_Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?"_

Mingo raised his dark head and saw Phoebe shiver beside her wagon. Her bright blue eyes sparkled in the last rays of the campfire. Mingo smiled at her. She smiled back and waved her hand. He nodded just as Dottie Addison came around the back corner of her wagon. She saw the exchange and frowned. Phoebe saw the direction of Mingo's gaze and turned to see her mother standing behind her shoulder. The two looked long into each other's eyes. Then Phoebe ducked beneath the wagon and curled on top of her blanket. Dottie Addison's eyes bored into Mingo's. He could not read the expression there. The tall woman turned wordlessly and crawled under the wagon beside her daughter. The heat lightning flashed and the thunder grumbled across the heavens.

A steady warm rain began before daylight. The pioneers rose and quickly donned oilcloths and slickers. No fires were attempted and the company proceeded with only a cold breakfast. The oxen walked steadily as the ground beneath their cloven hoofs grew soggy and slick.

By afternoon Daniel called a halt before a large, deep cave. The men and boys fed and hobbled the oxen while the twelve women and their daughters carried the camp equipment into the cave's large mouth. Extra firewood had been gathered at each evening's camp and now the settlers built two large cooking fires with the dry wood. Mingo stepped into the firelight with a large doe across his shoulders. He helped the women cut the carcass into chunks of meat to stew in the half dozen large iron pots set into the campfires. The women tossed in onions and stirred flour into the thin broth.

As the fragrance of stewing venison filled the air the men and boys straggled into the warm dry cave. They sat as close to the fires as possible, their wet clothes steaming. One of the Percy boys began an old English ballad, "Scarborough Fair", and his high voice was soon joined by the entire company. Song after song was sung until the meat was stewed. Then the women brought out loaves of bread and the whole gathering ate the hot stew and sopped the broth with chunks of wheat bread, rye bread, and corn bread.

The rain continued to gain intensity making washing the dishes impossible. The women dashed out and laid the various plates, pots and utensils in the steady downpour to rinse clean. The men and boys likewise dashed out to their respective wagons and gathered the family bedding. Together the families spread out the blankets, quilts and pillows. The little children were laid to sleep while the older children, men and women sat around the large fires as the flames died to glowing coals.

"Mingo, why don't you get your book and read us a story?" Daniel suggested. Mingo reached into his pack and retrieved his volume of Shakespeare plays. He turned to one of his favorites, Julius Caesar. The entire company sat spellbound as the Cherokee's deep voice expressively read the tragedy of the great man driven to death by his own faults. The words poured from his wide lips as Act 1 unfolded in the quiet firelit cave of eastern Kentucky.

_"Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world_

_Like a Colossus; and we petty men_

_Walk under his huge legs, and peep about_

_To find ourselves dishonorable graves._

_Men at some time are masters of their fates;_

_The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,_

_But in ourselves, that we are underlings."_

Mingo stopped reading to allow each person his or her own reflections. Men turned to each other and nodded their understanding. Women sat with bowed heads and smoothed the hair of the children resting in their laps. After several minutes Daniel cleared his throat and spoke to the silent gathering.

"The rain should be done by mornin' so let's all get some sleep. Mingo and me'll take the first watch. Night, everybody."

The company murmured their reply and parted to stretch out by families along the walls of the large dry cave. Together Mingo and Daniel sat silently just inside the limestone overhang. The Kentucky rain poured from the leaden sky.

"Mingo, do you think that we've been preordained to be what we are? Some collection of stars decreed we'd be here tonight? Do you believe in fate?"

"No Daniel, I don't. I think men make their own fate, either by choice or by default."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't choose what happens to me, but I can prepare myself as best as I can to face whatever the world throws at me. How I respond determines the next event. Sometimes we know the results of our actions, and sometimes we don't."

"But if'n you're real smart, like you are, that isn't your doin'. Or if you're born really dumb, that isn't your doin' either. Or maybe you're born to sing, or to hunt, or to make furniture, or arrows." Daniel grinned. "Maybe _I_ decided to lead folks, or maybe _fate_ decided I was to lead folks into Kentucky."

"No Daniel. What you do with what you have been given IS your choice. In that way we choose to become leaders or underlings. You are a leader because you have the gifts to _be_ a leader. But you CHOOSE to lead. The stars didn't determine that."

Daniel turned to his friend with a sly smile on his face. "Didn't fate decide to send you to teach Phoebe to read? I think that she believes that."

Mingo smiled in return. "Ah, Daniel, but what good would it be for fate to send me if I had not availed myself of the opportunity I was given to learn myself? Or if I did not feel it necessary to carry around a heavy volume of Shakespeare? Or if Shakespeare himself had not written those plays?"

"But maybe Shakespeare himself was fated to write those plays."

Mingo yawned. "Daniel, how many angels can dance on the head of a pin?"

"What?"

"You are trying to get me into a philosophical discussion and I'm really too tired to play. Wake me in a couple of hours and I'll take your watch." With those final words Mingo curled on his side and closed his eyes.

Daniel continued to sit watching the rain. "How many angels on the head of a pin?" Daniel murmured. He turned to look at his sleeping friend. "You are a man of the stars, Mingo. You're one of the brightest." The thought pleased the tall Kentuckian and he sat thinking of angels, and stars, and girls who yearned to read.

In the morning the rain had stopped and the air steamed. The intense humidity was hard on animals and people alike and the soggy ground made for slow travel. The pioneers were tired, muddy and in poor tempers when Daniel called a halt for the night. There was no dry firewood so everyone made do with a cold camp. The small children were cranky and the mothers short of temper. Insects buzzed irritatingly. Everyone went early to bed and lay uncomfortably on the still-wet ground.

Mingo stood the first watch. About an hour into it he heard the soft footfalls of Phoebe Addison. Mingo handed her his Shakespeare volume. She opened the volume to The Merchant of Venice and began to read, sounding out the many unfamiliar names and places. The archaic English puzzled her but Mingo made her use the clues contained in the rest of the text to understand the meaning. After an hour of reading Phoebe stopped to turn the page and the unmistakable sound of another set of footsteps caused Mingo to place his hand over the page in warning.

He placed his finger on his lips and the girl sat perfectly still before him. Her face looked strained in the moonlight, fear glazing her light eyes. Mingo stepped silently between the girl and the approaching person, his rifle at the ready. In the moonlight he could see a tall figure approaching. A woman. He released a sigh of relief as Dottie Addison came to stand before him.

"I know what my husband said to you, mister." She whispered. "And I know he's wrong. You're either a right brave man or a right foolish one. I'm grateful for what you've given my Phoebe. She's always craved book-learning, but her father just wouldn't hear of it."

Phoebe stood and walked to her mother's side. In her hand she carried the Shakespeare. "Ma, I know enough now to teach you. I will. It's not real hard. Mingo explained it so easy, and I can explain it to you too. I will, Ma."

Mingo could see the excitement, longing and doubt flit across Dottie Addison's face. The tall woman reached out and smoothed the cover of the book. Then she raised her eyes to her daughter's face. "Naw, Phoebe, it's too late for me."

"Excuse me ma'am, but it isn't. Phoebe is right. You could easily learn enough to enrich your life."

"The mister wouldn't like it."

"How will he know, Ma? If you don't tell him, and I don't tell him, how will he know?"

Mother and daughter looked into each other's faces for several minutes. Then Dottie Addison nodded her head. Phoebe's face broke into a radiant smile. "I'll start tomorrow. We can do it as we walk. Pa won't know, Ma. He doesn't care what we talk about while we walk. You'll see."

Phoebe handed the Shakespeare volume back to Mingo. "I may come and borrow this back sometime." Phoebe's light eyes sparkled with confidence. Mingo nodded and smiled at his pupil. The little plain phoebe bird had found her song.

Together mother and daughter walked into the shadow of their wagon. Mingo sighed and hefted his gun as he leaned against a tall elm behind him. Above him in the dark Kentucky sky the stars wheeled brightly in their courses.


End file.
